The Good Mother
by annalu
Summary: Sometimes the hardest decisions in life turn out not to be as hard as you though them.A mother finds out the worth of herself and her child.


The Good Mother by annalumos

It unnerved me at times how much he favored his father. I, the one who carried him for nine months, endured forty pounds of weight gain and excruciating labor, for my only child to be an exact mirror of his father. Still, he was hers in life. While he loved, admired and feared his father, it was me he ran to for comfort.

_Mum would kiss it better. Mummy would make it right._

Of course he was spoiled! What was the purpose of having wealth if you didn't spend it? I had the right. Just because some pitiful creature didn't have a knut to his name, while I spent galleons on clothes and jewels a day, wasn't my problem. Besides, they shouldn't have been born poor.

That's why her boy had everything and would continue to for as long as she lived. Devilishly clever boy he is. He knew to come to Mummy first now for his every whim instead of pleading to his father. Yet, even as I gave him his heart's desire, there was a slight feeling of pity for him as well. My small wayward thought of shame that he didn't measure up like a pureblood should. How could a disgusting mudblood girl top his every accomplishment? How could a pathetic orphan boy be his superior in a sport her child had been playing since leaving the nursery?

_Those dirty blooded children!_ They didn't deserve to breathe her boy's air, let alone walk this earth. But soon the war would start and everyone of that kind will be exterminated with her beloved husband leading the charge. And her precious one would destroy all who ever made him feel a moment's shame and insecurity. Choices. Life was made of tem, but the hardest decision I had ever had to make was which fur coat I liked best. And in the end I bought them both. But leisurely times are over. The war was now in full swing. Both sides were taking tremendous hits. There was no evidence of a clear winner in sight and The Boy Who Lived continued to do so.

Bloody traitors! I wished them all dead. Because of them—no, because of her, I would have to choose my son or the cause.

_He was weak, so very weak. But he was my baby_.

God, was it my fault? Was my husband right when he said I had spoiled him too much? No, of course not. There was no weakness in my bloodline. It all came down to an ultimatum. Help murder our son and give him a proper dignified end or allow him to be tossed to the Dark Lord tender mercies. Mercy. He had none for weak traitors.

_Damn, that mudblood bitch!_ I wish for a knife to slit her pretty little throat. So eager to watch as the tainted blood flows like a waterfall down her scrawny neck. Oh, the thought of it leaves me filled with ecstasy.

My baby has chosen unwisely. He's fallen in love with someone so beneath him. As much as he denied it and said he just felt lust, that all he wanted to do was pay her back for years of humiliation, I knew better. A good mother knows.

He was in love.

He'd been given one simple task, lure the mudblood away from her protectors, stun and capture her and give her over to his father. He had crowed loudly in glee at the order given to him, but I saw the joy didn't reach his expressive eyes. I should have known then. But he was weak, he choked. Instead of turning her over for death, he warned her instead, saving her life and taking off with her into hiding.

Sadly, he signed his death warrant that very day. There will be no forgiveness or second chances with his father. Nor from the Dark Lord. Only death. Now I must kill my child and bring honor to our family name once again.

After my beloved husband has made _his_ decision, he comes to our marriage bed with a renewed purpose to beget another heir. I find it terribly humorous that after all our years of peace and quiet as our child grew up, my husband wanted to start again. Although we are still quiet young and active, we are also set in our ways. He also seems to have purposely forgotten my first pregnancy had almost killed me. I was a petite woman and my dearest child had been no small baby.

Maybe that's why I love him so, because I actually had to work hard to bring him into this world.

Our lovemaking is frantic with my beloveds need to produce another offspring has taken over his mind. I know if I'm not pregnant this night, my husband won't stop until I am. All to wash away our bitterness over our failure, our one weakness in an otherwise perfect life.

With a single-mindedness, foreplay was tossed aside in an exchange for rough, unadulterated sex. We go through sensual moods like most married couples. Some nights we kiss and gently caress like newlyweds, while other times I barely make it out of bedchamber on two legs.

This night is for baby making sex. Our new perfect heir.

Being on top of my lovers always thrilled me and I trembled as he continued caressing around my clit. I wanted to cum so badly and he knew it. I'm so wet, I've completely soaked his right hand and he rubs my juices all over my womanhood. Finally he touches were I needed him most and he's not soft or gentle about it. He rubs me hard, rough and raw. I can't stop crying out loudly in my pleasure. His smooth, yet always cruel hands along with the wrist binds, takes me over the edge as I vocally showed him my approval. He was a sadist in the bed and I loved him for it! He ran his wet hands over the soft curves of my belly were our new baby would be and I felt tears come to my eyes. I didn't let him see, nor would he have cared why I cried, so I bent down and brutally bite into the tight flesh of his straining neck. He grunted at the small pain I had given him and painfully twisted my clit in revenge. I saw stars as I almost cum, moaning and writhing against his painful grip. He smirked and grabbed the back of my head, bending me to his will, giving my swollen lips quick little nips with his teeth. He finally eased his index finger into the pulsing, wet center between my thighs and I jerk against him. He hissed as I continued to wildly rub my wetness against his. He was on fire and I could feel his self-control fading fast.

Digging his sharp nails into my hips, he angles me how he wants me. I gasped, feeling the hard, blissful entry of his manhood and closed my eyes with the rapture it produced. He brutally and without conscious pounds his flesh up into me over and over again. I can barely hang onto my thoughts. It's painful and delicious. Our bodies making disgustingly sensual sounds as my beloved uses me as his whore. It makes this moment even more sexy and memorable. My restrained wrists are starting to ache and I know I won't be released until _he_ is satisfied.

It makes me love him even more.

My boy trusts me. Fears me, respects and honors me like a goddess. But moreover he trusts me. He's hid away from his father's justifiable wrath, but he could never abandon his mother. His sneaking into the mansion for one last good-bye will end up being one of the worse decisions of his life.

_Yes, come to mummy. Give mummy a hug and a kiss._

I breathe deeply the smell of aftershave and his body's natural scent as we embrace. The slight whiff of chocolate on his breath makes me smile. He's always loved his sweets. Pulling away, he's frantically looking around wearily for his father. He should be leery as my husband is just a few feet away in our bathroom, but I remain silent. The wand I have hidden away in the billowing folds of my nightgown is only inches away.

He tells me he is sorry, begs for my understanding and forgiveness. Says he never meant to fall in love. I say nothing, eyes casually crossing ever so often to the bathroom door, waiting. He tells me he loves me and he's sorry for hurting me. And I know in my heart he means every word. Our bond has always been strong. Yet, I have my choice to make. Either way, he would have to die. By The Dark Lord hands or his loving parents.

The bathroom opens suddenly and time draws to a stand still. The shock of seeing their similar faces strikes me yet again. My husband recovers quickly of course from this surprise and withdraws his wand from inside his robe. His instinct for survival is a sight to behold and I know he would never have lived this long without always being prepared for anything. Sensing my moment, I whip out my wand as well and point it in my son's horrified face. His expression drops to see himself on the other end of my wand. A look of betrayal and grief crosses his face for a split second before a look of resignation comes over him. He doesn't even try to defend himself.

_My baby's time is up. He has to die. Die, die, die!_ Our eyes meet as my husband stands behind him, wand at the ready. His eyes are his father's eyes. Crystal clear eyes I have looked into for the last sixteen years, which always held warmth in them for me, were dead. He was resigned to his fate.

_My sweet boy…_ Quickly, without a thought, I turned my wand on my husband and shouted the two words that would forever change my life. Bewildered shock is the only way to express the look etched on my loves face as he dies. I stoically look on as my mate for twenty years drops to the carpet in a crumpled heap. Even in death he's perfect and beautiful. Beauty defined in his classic features as he stares up into nothingness.

My son's eyes widen in shock, going back and forth from his father's deceased form to my wand filled hand. He trembles in my arms even after I toss the wand aside and wrap him close to me. He's afraid. Not of his father's retribution, but of me turning that wand on him. Never! And I tell him so. I told him that his mummy would never hurt him. And I know it to be the truth. I had a choice, my son or our cause and in the end the decision wasn't hard as I imagined. I gently kiss his cheek and he finally calms and relaxes in my arms.

I would miss my beloved, but I could always remarry, after all I was quite beautiful. Severus for one has always been quiet enamored with me and I know he adores my child. And now I truly can say a mother's instinct really was stronger than I had ever imagined. The need to protect my child was stronger than even my disdain for his poor decisions. Besides, mudblood lovers can easily be eliminated with the right amount of know how. Accidents happen everyday, some sooner than others. And I would be there to watch over my son like the good mother I am.

The end…There's just something about that family that screams fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed. Bye.


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